


Brand New Bag

by DhampirsDrinkEspresso



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Birth Control, Chaotic Reylo Energy, Children's Party, Christmas, Christmas Party, Co-workers, Conveniently Placed Mistletoe, Distracted Rey, Drinking, Drinking at an Adults only After Party, F/M, Holidays, Hurt feelings, Inappropriate Costume, Innuendo, Matchmaking, Matchmaking Rose, Meddling Leia, Mistletoe, Misunderstanding, No Alcohol At the Kids Party, Possibly Drunk Rose Tico, Rating May Change, Shirtless Ben Solo, Smelly feet, Suspenders, Tags May Change, alcohol consumption, cursing, mood shifts, spanking if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:09:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28326594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DhampirsDrinkEspresso/pseuds/DhampirsDrinkEspresso
Summary: Rey doesn't get along with her co-worker Ben...a co-worker who isalmostRey's ideal man and also happens to be the son of her matchmaking boss. When Rey needs help with a children's Christmas party, Ben is sent to save the day-whether he and Rey like it or not.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 32
Kudos: 182





	1. Santa Never Used to Look Like This

**Author's Note:**

> _Oh, the fire's burning slow  
>  Now where's that mistletoe  
> Dear, it's getting kind of hot in here  
> I need a taste of Christmas cheer  
> I hope he gets here quick, I need a St. Nick fix  
> Oooo-eee, I just want him to be all wrapped up for me  
> (Santa's never been this hard to resist  
> But Santa never used to look like this_
> 
> _He's traded in his reindeer for a limousine  
>  He's wearing purple trousers instead of red and green  
> This Christmas I want something I never had  
> 'Cause Santa's got a brand new bag _
> 
> SheDaisy- Santa’s Got A Brand New Bag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey's been placed in charge of the company sponsored children's Christmas party at the local community center, and she's just lost her Santa. Fortunately her boss has already secured a replacement. Unfortunately, it's her boss' son, Ben Solo.
> 
> _And just like that, Leia Organa-Solo, president and CEO of Resistance, Inc., sat down in Rose’s desk chair, took Rey’s hands in her own, and said, “What went wrong and whom do I need to threaten and/or throw money at to fix it?”_
> 
> _Rey managed a weak laugh. “Do you happen to have a spare Santa to my Mrs. Claus?”_
> 
> _“Oh, is that what’s got you so upset? Don’t you worry, it’s already taken care of,” Leia responded, shifting to give Rey’s hand a pat._
> 
> _Rey stiffened. She knew that tone. “Leia, what did you do?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahem...so we were talking about holiday music we had been hearing, and someone referred to SheDaisy's "Santa's Got a Brand New Bag" as an "I wanna fuck Santa song." My brain said "Oh, OK, make it Reylo." This is what happened. 
> 
> [Santa's Got A Brand New Bag](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tEfUPbwiLpY)

An unmitigated disaster, that’s what it was. Rey looked around the empty office helplessly and then buried her head in her hands with a groan.

Her boss had trusted her to handle it, and she’d thought she had everything covered.

Then Luke got food poisoning. Or possibly the flu. Either way, she’d lost her Santa.

An _hour_ before the children’s Christmas party at the local community center.

The children’s Christmas party which had been advertised for weeks.

The children’s Christmas party sponsored, planned, and hosted by the company every year.

With free pictures with Father Christmas—er, _Santa_ —and Mrs. Claus.

And she had no Santa.

“Rey? What on earth are you doing here so late, and all alone in the dark?”

She gasped and turned, swiping hastily at the corners of her eyes, where a few stubborn tears had managed to escape. “Oh, Leia, it’s terrible, I’m so very sorry! You trusted me and I’ve let you down.”

The woman—her _boss_ —crossed the room and placed a hand on Rey’s shoulder. “Oh, I highly doubt that. Here, tell me what’s happened.”

And just like that, Leia Organa-Solo, president and CEO of Resistance, Inc., sat down in Rose’s desk chair, took Rey’s hands in her own, and said, “What went wrong and whom do I need to threaten and/or throw money at to fix it?”

Rey managed a weak laugh. “Do you happen to have a spare Santa to my Mrs. Claus?”

“Oh, is that what’s got you so upset? Don’t you worry, it’s already taken care of,” Leia responded, shifting to give Rey’s hand a pat.

Rey stiffened. She knew that tone. “Leia, what did you do?”

The woman’s smile was devious. “Oh, when Luke called to tell me he was sick, I made other arrangements.”

“Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I think you already know I did.”

Rey buried her head in her hands again, this time feeling more than a little sick herself.

Leia rose from her seat, tucking a small handbag under her arm as she turned to leave, pausing to gleefully call back over her shoulder, “You should get changed dear. Less than an hour until the doors open!”

Leia’s son, Ben Solo, was quite possibly the most attractive man Rey had ever seen. Maybe not conventionally handsome, but the height and the hair and his features (not to mention the body she wanted to lick and nibble from one end to the other) all combined into a total physical package that just did it for her.

It was a shame he was an asshole.

And that they hated each other.

His mother had tried to play matchmaker between them just after Rey was hired, which had led to Ben screaming obscenities, chucking a stapler at the wall, and storming out of the office in the busiest portion of the day.

So of course everyone heard what he said, and most of them looked at Rey with either triumph or pity.

Some with a mixture of both.

She hadn’t let them—or _him_ —win, though. Rather, she’d straightened her spine, cleared her throat, and turned back to her workstation. “Well, someone certainly needs a nap,” she’d said. “I do so hate being interrupted in the middle of a project.” Then she’d inserted her ear buds, turned up the volume on her music, and focused on the lines of code on her monitor until the end of the day.

No one had a clue of the inner turmoil, the pain and shame and her own need to rage and maybe cry a bit. Well, perhaps Rose and Finn did…and quite possibly Poe would if he hadn’t been home sick that day, but aside from her three roommates no one else really knew her well enough to see it.

Abandonment followed by a lifetime in not-great foster care situations had seen to it that she could keep everything inside, presenting only a placid, vaguely pleasant false front. It wasn’t healthy, she knew, but it was effective.

If only that had been the end of it, she and Ben may have been able to tolerate one another’s presence—eventually.

Unfortunately, Leia was determined and for the next six months had continued throwing them together on projects, last minute client meetings, and three times she even tricked them into what were supposed to be group working dinners that somehow ended up just the two of them—without any work to do.

Rey couldn’t get out of the work commitments, so she endeavored to ignore him completely. Ben seemed fine with that, sitting in the corner with arms crossed and jaw clenched when he wasn’t speaking, and never once looking her way when he was.

It took Rey nearly accepting a job offer from First Order Tech (the company Ben had finally left when his Uncle Luke retired early from Resistance) for Leia to give up.

Temporarily, anyway.

Rey sighed and studied herself in the mirror.

There had been some kind of mix up with the costumes and her Mrs. Claus outfit was more “sexy elf” than “kindly white-haired matron.”

She did what she could, pinning the jacket closed over the fairly low-cut neckline and trading out the red fishnet thigh-highs (with tacky mistletoe and holly embroidery at the top of each) that had come with the costume for her own deep plum leggings. Rose had offered the red and white striped tights that had accompanied her elf costume, but Rey was just too tall for that to work. Rey kept her own black boots with a modest heel, worked her hair into a low bun, and perched a pair of wire framed, clear glass costume spectacles on her nose before looking into the mirror again.

The dress was mostly green with white fur trim and red, silver, and purple decorative bits.

It was hideous, really.

And _far_ too short.

At least her fleece-lined leggings were opaque.

Taking a breath to steel herself, she reached for the door handle of the tiny washroom off the small staff break area where everyone’s costumes had been delivered and stored. She shook her head, hoping Ben was already gone into the main room, before finally turning the handle and stepping out.

The sight that greeted her had her immediately frozen in place, mouth suddenly gone dry. Ben was _not_ gone yet and there he stood—shirtless—and apparently having costume troubles of his own.

Abs…abs for days…and pecs…arms…oh dear.

“You alive over there?” Solo sneered, turning his attention back to his attempts to adjust the deep burgundy (almost purple) pants of the pitiful looking Santa costume Leia had scrounged up last minute, as there was no way on earth or in heaven that Ben could wear the one they had rented for his uncle.

Still, even in the larger size the pants were clearly too short, and the wide suspenders attached apparently refused to adjust to a length to make that any better. The fabric seemed to be bunching uncomfortably around his…oh dear.

It was clear just leaving off the suspenders wasn’t an option, as there were no belt loops and the waistband was at least two sizes too large, dropping dangerously low on his hips so that she had an unobstructed view of his navel and the start of a line of dark hair disappearing into the hideous fabric.

She averted her gaze and mentally chastised herself.

He said something…again, but she had no idea what.

“Well, are you just going to stand there or help me?”

“Help?”

What was that strange yelping sound? Was that actually _her_ voice?

He rolled his eyes and turned around, and Rey felt her eyes go impossibly wider as he presented his back.

It was a nice back.

Lovely, in fact.

She wanted to run her nails down it, maybe leave some scratch marks just th—

Oh, he was talking again.

He sighed in resignation. “Can you please see if you can loosen the suspenders?” he said again, before quietly adding, “My fingers are too thick.”

Fingers.

Thick.

Too thick.

His fingers.

“Sus—suspenders?” she squeaked again.

Based on the tone and rumbling growl of his voice, it was probably just as well she couldn’t understand what he said that time.

She needed to move.

Why weren’t her feet working?

She concentrated and yes—there—one step and then another, and only a little shaky. She reached for the suspenders, valiantly fighting to resist touching his back (because she hated him, yes, that was it, Rey hated Ben Solo with a fiery passion…fire…hot…he really was hot…oops). She lost her hold, the elastic and faux-leather yoke snapping back against the skin just between and below his shoulder blades and he grunted.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, getting a better hold. Her fingers brushed his spine and he hissed.

“Your damn hands are cold,” he muttered irritably. She nearly apologized again but caught herself just in time, biting back the words before they could escape.

“Well, cold hands, warm heart, right, Solo?” she hissed, pressing her (admittedly chilled) hands to his broad back long enough for him to curse again and jerk away. “Oh, stop it and come back here you big baby,” she grumbled, tugging at the elastic yoke and getting a yelp from him as the pants rode up (again).

Okay, she actually did feel bad about that one, but she refused to utter another apology. Apologies were wasted on men like Ben Solo.

She fumbled at the elastic. “I would have thought you’d have your own fancy non-elastic ones,” she said, managing to loosen one side just a hair.

“I do,” he said, crossing his arms and fidgeting. “They don’t work with the costume. These damn things are sewn in place.”

She didn’t answer, couldn’t as her brain had forgotten how to form words again as it barreled off on a side path filled with images of Ben Solo’s torso and leather straps.

She kept picking at the elastic and the little metal clasps, though, until she managed to win him another inch or two of give. He actually sighed in relief then set about fiddling with the pants legs (still too short but better) and the boots on his gargantuan feet.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, so softly she almost didn’t catch it.

Leia and Rose ducked into the room then, rushing the pair of them into the remaining bits of their costumes.

As Leia complained about Ben’s lack of shirt (it didn’t fit, he insisted, and his own stuck out past the sleeves and over the collar), Rose helped Rey into green satin gloves (really? Green satin? There was no satin anywhere else in her costume and no hint of that particular shade of green).

While Leia man-handled her son into the padded jacket and shoved an extra cushion into the front, Rose pinned a delicate late trimmed cap over Rey’s hair.

As Leia argued with Ben about the absolutely awful white wig and beard, Rose looked speculatively to him and back to Rey before reaching out and snatching at the brooch Rey had used to fasten the jacket. Rey yelped, drawing the arguing pair’s attention.

Leia made a face. “Everything okay over there?”

“Oh, fine,” Rose said, gesturing to the cap. “My hand slipped and Rey’s ears are ticklish,” Rose offered with a sunny smile.

Leia’s eyes darted up and she gasped, apparently noting the time displayed on the clock above the door. “You’re late! Rey, move your butt. Ben, put on the damn beard and go out there with her.”

The main room was utter chaos and sugared-up children raced around shrieking. Rey winced and took an instinctive step back, bumping into Ben as Rose and Leia shoved him out the door behind her. She didn’t even have time to react or think about the fact that his hands came up to steady her before one of the children spotted them and screeched, drawing the attention of the others.

The horde descended.

That was how it felt, anyway, at least until Leia and Rose squeezed by and immediately called the room to order, getting the children into something like a line as Rey and Ben moved to the corner and took their places.

The next few hours were a blur of demands for tablets and smartphones, puppies, and even a little brother (because sisters made you play tea party and wash your hands, apparently). Rey was a little in awe of how Ben handled the children, preserving the magic for those who still believed, and encouraging those who were “too grown up for such nonsense” not to spoil the fun for the younger children. He was gentle and understanding, encouraging, and, perhaps most surprising of all, seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself and he talked and _smiled_ and laughed.

All in that _voice_ of his.

It seemed…strange.

Where on earth did this person come from and what had he done with the real Ben Solo?

Rey was distracted again by the way some of the parents (not to mention community center staff) were watching Ben.

Speculating.

She didn’t realize she’d moved closer and put a hand on his shoulder until he looked up at her, what she could see of his face looking pinched. Rose chose that moment to snap a photo, and Rey hoped Ben would just brush it off as her moving in for the picture. He must have, because he didn’t mention it even after every child had gotten their chance to have a picture with Santa and Mrs. Claus.

After the children were gone and the room set to rights, the Resistance staff began trickling out. It seemed most would be making the short walk back down the block to the office to have a little party of their own. According to Rose it was a tradition begun by Leia, who also supplied “a veritable plethora of adult beverages.”

After the day (week…month…) she’d had, Rey let Rose talk her into joining in on the fun, despite the absolute exhaustion she felt.

Besides, it wasn’t like Ben would deign to show. He hated social events (Rey should know, she’d heard his rant more than once while Leia had been trying to force them together).

Why, then, did it look like him lounging in the corner, looking absolutely delectable in jeans (wait, did Ben Solo even own a pair of jeans) and a soft, black jumper?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned for this to be a one shot but I have been up for 20 hours and it was a rough night at work, so the second part will come in the next couple of days (I hope).


	2. Where's That Mistletoe?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey decides to head home early, and runs into Ben on the way out. 
> 
> _“Sneaking out?”_
> 
> _She jumped at the sound of Ben’s voice and spun around, finding him in a shadowy corner near the hallway between his office and his mother’s. She opened her mouth, ready to let the defensive anger take the lead, but was distracted by…_
> 
> _“Is that a packing box?”_
> 
> _He glanced at the object by his feet and ran a hand through his hair, not looking at her. “Yeah,” he said tiredly. “I’ll be…I’m not coming back, after the holidays.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I upped the chapter count. The next one will definitely be the last, though...I think.

He was laughing.

Again.

And she was still watching him. Rey shook her head, torn between betrayal that Poe would laugh and joke with Ben Solo and thanking any deity that might exist that he was.

Because she liked hearing Ben Solo laugh. Seeing him smile. Watching the way he focused so intently on what was being said to him.

She was starting to believe her friends had been right every time they insisted that she just had a bad first impression of Ben, that he had a temper but wasn’t a bad guy.

Bad impression…right.

She took a sip of the jet fuel concoction Rose had called punch and snorted into the glass.

Her first impression of Ben Solo as rude and stand-offish had resulted from a perfunctory office tour with HR in which the rep leading her around had stopped him in the hallway, introduced him to Rey, and he had refused a handshake, grunted, and said he didn’t have time.

Her _second_ impression had been much the same, when she was assigned to work on a website issue for one of his clients and he’d waved her off without ever looking up from his computer when she tried to ask a question that would have saved them both hours of frustration and trouble had he bothered to listen and respond.

Dozens of interactions with him, all going pretty much the same way, led up to the day the entire office had _overheard_ him yell at his mother to “stop trying to fix me up with employees” and that he “deserves better than some nothing nobody who doesn’t have their shit together.” Then he’d thrown a stapler and stormed out of the office in a hail of expletives.

And Rey had done what she always did, hidden her anger and hurt beneath a veneer of bored disdain.

Maybe she should have cried and raged and whined about it. Maybe then Leia wouldn’t have kept pushing.

Because no matter what she tried to tell herself, how she tried to deny it, Rey desperately wanted Ben Solo. _Liked_ him, even…at least now, after seeing him interact with a roomful of children. And without his mother’s meddling, she thought maybe could have at least been work friends.

Or maybe she was overthinking because she was tired and holding an alcoholic beverage that promised to get her very drunk very quickly if she would just finish it. Rey frowned down at the plastic cup and put it down on the nearest flat surface, replacing it with a bottle of water. She should just go home.

She looked around, hoping to find her roommates and tell whichever one of them was least intoxicated that she was leaving, but they all seemed to have disappeared. She sighed and left the conference room where the refreshments were set up and wandered into the main bullpen area, retrieving her handbag from her desk and fishing out her mobile. She’d send a group text and hope that at least one of them had remembered to charge their phones. Maybe Finn? He usually remembered before his devices went completely dead. She winced at the red indicator on her own screen. 17% was still double digits, at least…

_Some nothing nobody who doesn’t have their shit together._

The fact that he hadn’t been wrong was probably the part that hurt the most.

“Sneaking out?”

She jumped at the sound of Ben’s voice and spun around, finding him in a shadowy corner near the hallway between his office and his mother’s. She opened her mouth, ready to let the defensive anger take the lead, but was distracted by…

“Is that a packing box?”

He glanced at the object by his feet and ran a hand through his hair, not looking at her. “Yeah,” he said tiredly. “I’ll be…I’m not coming back, after the holidays.”

_No._

_No no no no no._

He couldn’t leave. She couldn’t _let_ him leave, didn’t want him to.

The sudden realization spurred her to action, sending her the rest of the way across the room to where he stood. “Why? This is _your_ family’s company. They need you here.”

He looked at her again—finally—and then shook his head with a self-deprecating laugh. “No, they don’t. They need _you_ here, and Poe and Rose and Finn and Kaydel, hell, even Bazine. But I’m not necessary. I’m a mess Rey, I always have been, and the past year here, watching all of you, most of you so much younger, and you all know exactly who you are and what you want out of life. You’ve all got your shit together, and it just proved that I absolutely don’t.”

She opened her mouth to argue, still on autopilot as she tried to process the things he was saying. “But…”

Her brain caught up and stalled again, as if she’d been logged out of an essential operating system and had to process her credentials again.

“I…you…but we _all_ heard you that day, when you yelled at your mother about pushing the two of us together. ‘Some nothing nobody who doesn’t have their shit together,’ that’s what you said.”

He stared at her for a moment, made a choking sound as it was his turn to try to make his brain work again. “I…you think I meant…Maker, Rey, I wasn’t talking about _you._ ”

“But y—”

He grasped her shoulders. “No, never, definitely not you. I was talking about _me._ Rey, you, probably more than anyone else, were the one who inspired me to _try_ and get my life together.”

She stared up at him, wondering why her eyes were suddenly blurry and completely unable to process all the thoughts and emotions swirling within her, so she settled for the ones flaring up, fast and hot: confusion and anger.

“Do you mean to tell me, Ben Solo, that you don’t actually hate me and we could have spent all this time being at least somewhat friendly?”

He was smart enough to fear her tone, and when she reached up and pressed a hand against his (broad-massive-chiseled-well defined…oooooh, muscles) chest and shoved, he let her push him back a step, into the hall. He didn’t answer, just watched her warily, eyes occasionally darting down toward the top of the stupid costume she was still wearing. She didn’t miss that, latched onto it in fact, licking her lips and leaning in closer as she brought the other hand up to join the first, shoving and taking another step, and another, until he was pressed against his closed office door.

“I think you owe me an apology, Solo,” she said, letting a wicked grin curl her lips as she got a good look at the top of the door frame. “Several, in fact,” she added, “But we’ll start with this.”

His lips parted and brow furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t waste time letting him speak as her right hand slid up and into his hair, making a fist as the fingers of her left hand grasped his ear and she jerked him down to her.

He tasted like candy canes and some warm spice—not cinnamon though. Cloves maybe? And ginger.

He was also a very good kisser, and Rey found herself readily handing over control as his arms locked around her, lifting her higher onto her toes.

Then he was just…gone…separating from her and using his hold to move her back. “How much have you had to drink?” he demanded.

She blinked at him.

_Oh._

“Nothing, well, almost a sip of what Rose tried to call punch.” She paused, leaning against Leia’s door and crossing her arms as she managed to control her breathing (helped, oddly enough, by the fact that he was practically panting). “I didn’t swallow, though,” she said, grinning again and glancing down before meeting his eyes again.

Ben managed to calm his own breathing and shifted uncomfortably against the door for a moment, eyes closed and face tilted toward the ceiling. She knew when they fluttered open and he saw it there, above his door.

Mistletoe.

Conveniently hung in the doorway of his office.

It definitely hadn’t been there at the end of the workday, but it _had_ given her the proper motivation to kiss him. After all, if he hadn’t reacted positively, she could always claim she’d actually been drinking and cite the ‘rules of mistletoe’ as justification for her actions. It was fortunate she hadn’t needed to.

“Take me somewhere not here, Solo, so that you can attempt to…properly apologize.”

She saw the curl of lips start, expected that lazy half-grin she’d seen before, and a was little awed at the full-blown smile that showed dimples and creases by his mouth and eyes. It was…did the room get a little brighter?

“I think I can arrange that,” he said. “You know, I live around the corner,” he added conversationally, stepping forward into the middle of the hallway.

“Hm, interesting. I think I’d quite like to see the place you call home.” She stepped forward to meet him, standing far too close and reaching out to trail the fingers of one hand over his abdomen. “Maybe nose through your medicine cabinet,” she added, tilting her head to look up at him. “Rifle through your drawers, see what you’re hiding,” she slipped a finger under his belt, tugging him forward until their thighs touched. He leaned down, brushing his nose against hers and _why_ , exactly, was _that_ the thing that made her shiver, that had her eyes rolling back for a split second?

“Hm, maybe,” he said, “So long as I get to rifle _your_ drawers.”

And she shivered again.

Why?

It was ridiculous. Cheesy.

And he knew it based on his grin.

She shifted, almost unconsciously rubbing her thighs together.

He noticed…he definitely noticed, pressed together as they were.

“Who says I’m wearing any?”

He groaned. “Rey…not fair. You’re killing me here.”

“You started it.”

He straightened and stared down at her, his arms comfortably around her waist and his hands possibly creeping just a bit lower than socially appropriate. “How, exactly, did _I_ start this? _YOU_ accosted me in the hallway.”

Oh, he was good. Tone of voice, even his expression, proclaimed confusion and innocence, but the heat in his eyes and the way his hands were creeping down again, squeezing her bum and pressing her more tightly against him, that all proved otherwise.

She shrugged. “I can’t help the way I react to you,” she said. “You walk around all tall and broad and well-defined, sometimes wearing _suspenders_ , with your hair and thick fingers…no, this is definitely all your fault.”

“Oh, tell me more,” he said, shifting her to press more directly against the bulge in his jeans, and maybe lifting her off her feet for a moment just to let her slide back down the front of his body.

Or perhaps that part had been a happy accident. She didn’t think so, though.

“Let me change clothes and we can go, and then I’ll tell you all about how your chest and shoulders are extremely distracting—with or without a shirt.”

“Oh, no, there will be no changing. I’ve been thinking about getting you out of this ridiculous half a costume all night.”

She grinned. “Oh, silly puppy, I’ll have you know this is the _entire_ costume, that’s why I had to keep my leggings on.” She paused, appreciating the look on his face. “Well, it _did_ come with red fishnet thigh highs, but those weren’t exactly appropriate for a children’s party.”

“I…” he blinked. “You…it…bring those,” he said.

She fluttered her eyelids at him, all playful innocence. “By ‘those’ I assume you mean the stockings?” He looked almost pained and nodded, loosening his hold as she turned. They had managed about three steps when there was a sound behind them and they both spun around.

Nothing.

No one.

But there was a shuffling sound again, and furious whispering from behind his mother’s office door.

“Come out here.” It wasn’t a request, and Ben stared down at her, surprised and impressed at her tone. The office door swung open and Rose and Finn tumbled out, followed closely by Poe, all three of them giggling uncontrollably.

Rey sighed. Drunk, all three of them. No sense yelling at them in their current state. She’d wait and maybe do it tomorrow, when they were all hungover. She glanced from her roommates to Ben and back…well, maybe they’d get away with it just this once, provided she was…otherwise occupied. “Drink some water and call a rideshare,” she said, “and text me when you get home safely.” She turned back to the corner where her cubicle sat, claiming her handbag and the small tote with her clothes and (conveniently enough) a few essentials she had brought to freshen up before changing into her costume.

She turned and gasped at how close Ben was standing. She hadn’t even realized he had followed her. The gasp was followed quickly by a yelp as he looped her bags over his arm and hauled her over his shoulder. “You can get even later,” he said as she began to protest. “I just realized both of my parents were in there with your roommates.” She giggled at the absolute horror in his voice.

They almost made it to the exit before Leia’s voice rang out from her office. “I expect you _both_ at the house for dinner tomorrow, seven sharp.”

Ben muttered a response and even though Rey couldn’t make out the words, his mother yelled out “I heard that, Benjamin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That really was supposed to be the end, but they just...really need to talk some more, and they're a little preoccupied at the moment.


	3. This Christmas I Want Something I Never Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rey and Ben spend some time together, and it doesn't go exactly the way she expected but that's okay too. 
> 
> _“You’re rather dramatic,” she observed after she calmed._
> 
> _“So I’ve been told.” She winced as she realized she’d hit a sore spot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”_
> 
> _He rolled to his side, head propped on one hand. “It’s fine, and it’s not like you’re wrong.”_
> 
> _“Still, I shouldn’t have—”_
> 
> _He reached out with the hand not currently supporting him and pressed his fingertips over her mouth. “Please don’t do that. Don’t backtrack and act like I’m some sort of ticking time bomb ready to go off at any time. I know my reputation, I know my past. It…it doesn’t help when people hold back the truth to spare my feelings—assuming they even think I have any.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this...I dunno. It kept taking a turn and getting all soft and cheesy but I like it. I know the mood keeps flipping back and forth, but that kind of chaotic energy always strikes me as very Reylo. Hopefully it works.

Rey was still giggling when he put her down in the lift. “You’re adorable when you blush,” she said, causing him to redden further. She had a sudden need to see if it spread to his ears and reached up, almost giddy as she pushed his hair back and half-surprised he let her. Her fingertip traced the reddened contours, stroked along the edge of his face and up to the shell of his ear before moving down to his earlobe, and his eyelids fluttered. “I want to bite your ears.”

His eyes popped open and she realized that yes, she had in fact said that out loud. “Um, maybe?” he said hesitantly. “They’re um…kind of sensitive.” The fading blush came back and she couldn’t _not_ kiss him, surging up on her toes and tugging gently at the back of his neck to urge him to meet her.

Their foreheads met with a crack and they sprang apart, both rubbing lightly at the center of contact. Okay, maybe it wasn’t so gentle as she thought. “Sorry,” she muttered, and he laughed.

“Honestly, that’s probably more on brand for me than whatever that was in the hallway.”

“I find that rather difficult to believe,” she said. He didn’t argue, although the look on his face said he wanted to. “Shall we try again?” He nodded and leaned down to meet her, no pulling necessary this time.

They were still kissing when the doors opened, letting them into the lobby. They broke apart reluctantly, pausing at least four times before reaching the doors because they weren’t quite coordinated enough for walking and kissing at the same time.

A brisk gust fluttered Rey’s short skirt and seemed to tear through the decorative jacket as if it were nothing. She shivered. “It’s gotten colder,” she said, not resisting as Ben wrapped an arm around her and cuddled her into his side, her bags still slung carelessly over his opposite shoulder, where he’d put them when they stepped out of the elevator.

“It’s supposed to snow, tonight,” he said. “Most of the day tomorrow, too.”

She nodded.

The prudent thing to do would be to go home.

“You…Rey we don’t have to do this tonight. You can go home, if you’re worried about the weather.” He paused, staring at some indeterminate point above her head as he softly added, “or if you have second thoughts.”

She took stepped in front of him, holding both of his hands and shivering as the wind tore through her again. “Ben, my second thoughts, my third thoughts, and even my fourth thoughts…they’re all the same as my first. I want you to show me your flat, kiss me some more, and maybe talk about things. If you also wish to…warm me up, shall we say…I am quite amenable to that plan, as well.” She paused. They’d spent the better part of a year not communicating when they could have been kissing if only they had both used their words. She wanted to be clear, and she was beginning to understand that Ben Solo was not nearly so confident as he seemed. “But if you prefer that I go home, if you think we got carried away, or that this is just all too fast, I can leave now, and we can both think it over and talk—or not—after we’ve had some sleep.”

There, she’d given him an out, if he wanted, and they could both go home—separately—dignity intact. Ben looked down at her for a long moment, and then the next thing she knew, her back was pressed against a brick wall, the back of her head cradled in one of his hands as they apparently tried to devour one another.

It was fortunate, she supposed, that hardly anyone was out at the current hour, at least not in their immediate vicinity. He pulled back from her and stroked the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “See, you have your shit together,” he said. “But no, I definitely don’t want you to go home.” He seemed on the verge of saying something else, but the snow had started and her teeth were chattering. “Come on, let’s get you inside,” he said instead, holding both her hands in his (far more effective than when she had done it to him) and glancing over his shoulder a few times as he backed around the corner. He stopped after a few feet and dropped one of her hands, reaching into his pocket for his keys.

“Wait, is this the same building?”

“Ah, yeah,” he said, unlocking a security door and leading her inside. “It’s not accessible from the side where the office is, but it’s technically all one building.” He fiddled with his keys, producing a second one for another door across the understated lobby as she looked around. He ushered her through before locking the door behind them and reaching out to key in a code on a security panel. A rumbling sound started and a door slid open with a squeal. Another lift. “It’s three flights. I don’t know about you, but I don’t really feel like climbing the stairs.” She nodded and let him escort her inside. They managed to keep their hands—and lips—off of one another as Ben waved a key fob near some kind of sensor and the elevator groaned its way to his floor. He made a face and muttered something about calling maintenance again and the weather making things worse, then the doors slid open across from what she was guessing must be the entrance to his flat.

Ben unlocked and opened the oversized door and flipped a switch before gesturing for her to go in first. Rey stepped in far enough that he could close the door behind them and looked around as the lights flickered and settled. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the type to settle for overhead fluorescent lighting.”

There was a click somewhere to the side of her and a softer, golden glow emanated from a floor lamp as Ben crossed to the opposite wall and turned the dial on a dimmer switch, activating a completely separate set of overhead lights at a far more comfortable level. “I’m not,” he said with what she thought was another small smile. “But whoever converted this place either didn’t finish the job or just didn’t care and it was just temporary so I didn’t bother to change it.” He crossed the room again and flipped the switch back off, ending the harsh blue-white glow and the faint buzzing. “I usually leave a lamp on, but I may have been in a hurry after I changed,” he said from behind her, apparently standing far closer than she had realized. He slid an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him and his lips brushed her ear as he added, “It’s possible I was worried you’d be back in that baggy sweater you had on today, and while you look amazing in anything, it’s a lot longer than this and has a higher neck.”

Rey gave a happy sigh and wiggled her hips a little, enjoying his reaction—both the sound it drew from him and the way he pushed back against her.

She was probably more comfortable than she should be, considering it had been only hours ago that she thought he couldn’t stand her and had been trying to convince herself she hated him. She wasn’t going to question it too closely, though. It had been too long. Too long since anyone had laid a hand on her. Too long that she’d tried to deny her own attraction. Too long that they had been fighting when they could have been fighting then making up (because there was no doubt they would still fight…she knew herself and she’d met Ben—fighting was inevitable).

Ben slipped his other arm around her, locking her into an embrace, and leaned down to rest his chin on her shoulder (that _had_ to be an uncomfortable angle—she wasn’t exactly short but he was still significantly taller than her). She decided to enjoy it though, trusting he would move if it got painful. She folded her arms over his and leaned back, letting him support her.

She should probably be frightened at how very right the simple intimacy felt, but with his arms around her and his heart beating against her back, she couldn’t feel much other than safety and contentment. “You know, I half expected you’d have me pressed against a wall or bent over your couch by now, but this is quite nice,” she mused.

She smiled as she felt the huff of his breath against her neck when he laughed. “Still could, probably will, but we have time. Besides, needed to warm you up first,” he said, and when his lips brushed her skin again it was an intentional kiss. He loosened his hold and stood up straight, stretching and shrugging out of the leather jacket he’d donned over the black sweater. He tossed the coat over a chair and lowered himself to the sofa, waving her over to join him.

“Now that you mention it, I _am_ comfortably warm,” she said, shrugging out of the hideous cropped jacket, leaving her in the wide strapped dress with a sweetheart neckline and her leggings and boots. She made eye contact and dropped the jacket on the floor before taking the few steps over to his coffee table and propping one booted foot up. “Would you mind terribly, giving me a hand?” she said, gesturing to the zipper on her boot.

The look she got in return was one she’d only just seen for the first time in the hallway by his office, but it was already one of her favorites. His thumb stroked over her calf, along the top of the boot, and she shivered at the promise in that touch. He grasped the zipper—thick fingers managing just fine with the current task, and she watched in fascination as he tugged it down, his other hand following the progress and stroking down her leg to her ankle then wrapping around to lift her foot. The hand he’d used for the zipper moved around to the back of the boot, grasping and pulling it off her foot as he stared up at her, eyes trained on her for every hint of reaction.

Rey realized her breathing had sped up but she didn’t know exactly when. “You…ah, you did that very well,” she managed. He frowned at her bare toes and looked back up at her. “Too tight for socks, but they’re warm enough,” she muttered defensively. Wisely, he didn’t say anything, just stroked a thumb over the top of her bare foot before releasing her so she could turn and lift the other foot. When he pulled off her second boot and slid to sit on the floor, then leaned forward to kiss her ankle, she had the sudden, desperate thought that her feet probably smelled from a day in boots and no socks, and she silently prayed to any power listening that the powder Rose had recommended to keep her feet from sweating too much had worked.

“Rey?”

She shook her head and looked down at him, sitting in the floor with his back against the sofa, and realized he’d been talking to her.

“Oh, sorry, I was thinking…zoned out for a moment. What?”

He studied her in silence for a moment before he shook his head and looked down. She had the sudden thought that he assumed she was changing her mind. Desperation made her blurt the truth. “It’s just, I used this foot powder, yeah, and Rose swears by it, but I wore the boots all day and no socks and I just…I know my feet probably smell,” she muttered quickly, feeling her cheeks heat up as she looked anywhere but at Ben.

He laughed, just laughed, for several minutes, before finally catching his breath and looking up at her with his entire face practically glowing in mirth. “You can tell Rose she was right. I would know,” he added, tapping his nose, and it was Rey’s turn to laugh. “And I can guarantee mine smell worse. That’s why I kept my shoes on,” he added when she calmed, setting her off in another fit of giggles as he glared in mock-offense. “I can’t believe this. I’ve laid myself bare before you, all my insecurities on display,” he whined with a playful pout, before throwing a forearm over his eyes and lying flat on the floor. “I let myself be vulnerable and you laugh.” Unable to keep standing, Rey lowered herself to sit cross-legged beside him, managing to wedge herself in the space between his torso and an end table.

“You’re rather dramatic,” she observed after she calmed.

“So I’ve been told.” She winced as she realized she’d hit a sore spot. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He rolled to his side, head propped on one hand. “It’s fine, and it’s not like you’re wrong.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have—”

He reached out with the hand not currently supporting him and pressed his fingertips over her mouth. “Please don’t do that. Don’t backtrack and act like I’m some sort of ticking time bomb ready to go off at any time. I know my reputation, I know my past. It…it doesn’t help when people hold back the truth to spare my feelings—assuming they even think I have any.” She nodded, smiling against his hand when he didn’t move it, and she wrapped her lips around the tip of his middle finger, nipping his fingertip with her teeth before letting him go and it was like she’d flipped a switch—or perhaps released a caged animal.

In hindsight, it may have been the wrong thing to do, but she didn’t regret it when she found herself bent over the arm of the couch, her leggings and underwear (he’d playfully swatted her bum for lying about not wearing any) tangled just above her knees. There had been kisses and desperate touches and a quickly uttered conversation about protection (yes, she was on birth control, and he had condoms somewhere but they might be expired), test results (both clean), and how long since their last partners (too long on both sides) and then there wasn’t energy or space between them for words.

They napped on the couch, both still half dressed, before his hands on her skin woke her and they made it to his bedroom the second time—although not quite as far as his bed, and she’d snagged a shirt from his closet—the white and blue striped one he wore very rarely, and yes it was in fact her favorite—to put on before he took her into the kitchen after for water and snacks. She sat on the counter in his shirt and a pair of thick socks (also Ben’s, of course, and far too long which meant she had been able to pull them up to her knees), and observed that the high kitchen counters were the perfect height for activities other than cooking. He groaned, complained he was too old and she shouldn’t tease him like that, before kissing her and promising they’d test the theory in the morning, before he actually lifted her off the counter and carried her back to his bedroom, ignoring her empty protests that she could walk, all the while tightening her hold on him and grinning like a madwoman.

The best part, though, Rey’s absolute favorite moments, were those where she snuggled into his arms and they just talked…about everything and nothing.

She told him bits about growing up in foster care, he admitted he’d been an angry kid who lashed out.

She told him her favorite color, and he reciprocated, surprising her when his answer had been blue.

She spotted a stack of textbooks in front of his nightstand and he admitted that was why he was leaving resistance. He’d decided to go back to school for another degree. Maybe in education or child psychology, he wasn’t sure yet, but something to help kids.

When his mother called late in the morning, it was Rey’s mobile that rang, plugged in on her—uh, the second—nightstand by Ben’s bed. “Because I knew my son wouldn’t answer,” Leia said, before going on to admit that with the weather she no longer expected them for dinner, but as soon as the roads were safe, she would reschedule and they were both expected to be there.

Ben grabbed the phone and told her she was presumptuous and overbearing, but he’d smiled when he said it before admitting that yes, his mother had been right about…something and hanging up. When he lay back down beside Rey, he kissed her shoulder and she was struck again by how at home she felt.

“What was she right about?”

He groaned. “Lots of things, really, but she was referring to her insistence that, let’s see, how did she put it…if I would ‘stop being a stupid asshat’ I might see that you were a perfect match for me, and if I was lucky enough to catch you, she hoped I would also be smart enough not to let you go.” He paused and kissed her shoulder again. “Pretty sure she likes you more than she likes me…not that I blame her.”

They ended up snowed in for almost a week, all the way through Christmas, and by the end Rey wasn’t sure she wanted to ever leave, but they agreed it might be best to take some time apart and make sure it wasn’t all just hormones and holiday stress.

It was all very adult and responsible.

The fact that she officially moved in with him only a month later when he found a house halfway between Resistance and the university may have been less so, but no one really protested.

When, on the following Christmas Eve, he donned a Santa had and she sat on his lap and insisted she’d been a very good girl but if he thought otherwise, she’d prefer switches to coal in her stocking (more fun) they’d ended up spending the entire night on the floor in front of the Christmas tree.

Christmas morning had found a rock in her stocking, but it wasn’t coal—at least not anymore.


End file.
